


Moving On

by babybat



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybat/pseuds/babybat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alaric blames Katherine for Jenna's death. He confronts her in a drunken stupor, and things don't exactly go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> This was writen for tvd_rareships's Fic Exchange on Livejournal, specifically for deathlydragon whose prompt was: Katherine/Alaric, unwilling saviour, hurt/comfort, UST (eventually resolved), thunderstorm/rain/snow, weather conditions leading to romantic interaction. I do not own The Vampire Diaries, everything belongs to L.J. Smith and Julie Plec. Those bitches. ; )

“You!” The apartment door swung open with a loud crash and slurred declaration.

“Hello, Ric. I've been wondering when you'd show up,” She kept her back to him, hazel orbs gazing out the window, observing as the heavy rainfall turned to hail.

“Nice weather we're having,” She said conversationally, as if all Hell had not broken loose several hours prior. As far as she knew, Jenna was dead, that Jules girl had been slaughtered, and her double was in transition. Not to mention the fact that precious plaything number two was dying (again) from a werewolf bite, if he wasn't dead already.

Clearly, Klaus had gone unharmed since she was still trapped inside the apartment. Which probably meant even more people where no longer with them, but it was all guess-work since no one felt obligated to give her the battle report. She wasn't really surprised.

After a short pause, she turned around to survey him. His clothes were drenched and dripping water onto the floor as he swayed unsteadily in the hallway.

“I see you've already had a chance to enjoy it,” looking back out the window longingly, she sighed, “Must be nice.”

“Jenna's dead.” Alaric stated as if it would shock Katherine, impact her deeply in some way that it never actually would.

Katherine could smell the bourbon on his breath. He wreaked of it, as if he'd spent the entire morning trying to drown his sorrows. No wonder he and Damon got along so swimmingly.

“Why are you here?” She asked, picking at her fingernails with feigned disinterest.

“She's dead--” He repeated as he stumbled into the apartment.

“Yeah, I got that,” Katherine ceased the inspection of her cuticles, “And--?” Her head tilted to the side as she sent him an expectant look.

“She's dead and it's your fault!”

“Ahh, so Damon did tell you then.” She remained unfazed as he approached her with all the grace of a drunkard, “I figured as much.”

“You don't even care!” He accused, sounding like a child who had been deeply wronged.

“Why should I?” Kat shot back, “I did what I had to do in order to survive. It's not my fault that she didn't bother to do the same herself.”

Alaric scoffed, looking as if he were momentarily at a loss for words. This was most likely brought on partly by Katherine's words, but largely by his own drunken stupor, fogging his brain and smothering whatever eloquence he typically had when sober.

“What was she supposed to do? You had her ambushed!” He yelled at last, looking like a bull who saw only red, bound to charge at any passing second.

Katherine shrugged dismissively, unimpressed by his macho show of anger, “What are you doing here, Alaric?” She repeated impatiently.

“Why?” His shoulders sagged as his anger deflated, leaving behind nothing scarier than a drowned puppy, “Why did you do it?”

“I wasn't about to sacrifice myself for her.” Katherine stated obviously, “I am my number one priority after all.”

His anger renewed by her words, Alaric launched himself at her fearlessly, too drunk and too vengeful to care about the obvious disadvantage he had against a vampire.

His hand constricted around Katherine's throat as he slammed her into the nearest wall, the picture frames that were hung there vibrating audibly from the impact. Kat made no move to prevent his attack.

“That's right,” She admitted hatefully, “I'm the reason she's dead. I didn't take her life or force-feed her blood, but I am the one who made it all possible,” Alaric's hand tensed. He bared his teeth, his fingers gripping harder at her throat, as if to crush it. Momentarily he was deluded into thinking that killing Katherine might bring Jenna back to him.

“I didn't drive the stake into her heart, but I might as well have,” Katherine spat and Alaric snarled back at her, slamming her into the wall a second time.

“So go ahead and hate me. Make me the villain if that makes it easier for you to deal with, but know that I did what I had to.”

His fist connected with the wall only centimeters away from her head. Something flashed behind her eyes, but still she did not bother to remind him of who he was dealing with, didn't try to put him back in his place. Although Katherine could have, easily. Instead, she took it. All of it. All of that pain and desperation that threatened to smother him. Allowed him to strike her, to yell at her. Allowed him to throw his little hissy fit with an all-knowing smirk.

“Why? Why did she have to be the one to die?”

“Because Klaus needed a vampire and the dumb blonde got away. Simple as that.”

“But why her?!” His face was suddenly flooded with tears and Katherine found herself growing uncomfortable. When his hold on her began to slacken, she shrugged him off, pushing him a few paces away from her.

“Really?” She asked, incredulous, “Hasn't anyone ever told you not to cry over spilled milk?”

Katherine shifted on her feet, feeling largely out of place. She was used to being thrown around, hated. She had been comfortable with the accusations and the fighting, but this... This was not her element. It was foreign to her; too vulnerable, too human for her taste. But she found herself guiding him slowly to the couch nonetheless, his head bowed as he shuffled his feet. She pushed on his shoulders to make him sit. Plopping down next to him with a dramatized sigh, expressing the tedium she now felt toward the situation.

“Move on. Get over it,” She said, hoping to shift back to more familiar ground, to pull a rise from him, “Because she is not coming back.”

Instead of getting riled up, Alaric looked all the more crestfallen at having finally accepted the facts. He didn't have the energy to delude himself any longer. And if he didn't have any more fight left, then she'd just have to switch her tactics.

“Not Jenna. Not Isobel.” Kat purred in his ear, suddenly very close, drawing out each of their names longer than necessary, taunting him as she pressed herself against his side, her hand resting on his shoulder, and her chin resting on her hand. “They're gone. _Dead_.”

“Jenna's body is six feet under. Days from now she'll be serving no greater purpose than food for worms and maggots.” She dug her nails into the back of Alaric's neck as she continued to spit out each nasty comment seductively, “And Isobel--Isobel skipped ahead and went straight to ash.”

“So either join them or man up already.” She said bluntly, dropping all pretenses and moving away from him.

Something in Alaric finally snapped.

He grabbed onto her arm before she managed to put much distance between the two. With an amused grin, Kat lifted her face to look at him, an eyebrow arched expectantly.

Without a word, Alaric pushed her back into the couch, where springs protested with loud creaks. Their lips meeting in a vicious, sloppy kiss, each vying for an advantage. Katherine's teeth pulled at his lower lip, causing a single droplet of blood to swell to the surface. Alaric jerked back, looking skiddish. She was sure he was about to bolt, but he swallowed hard and dove right back in to the kiss, letting her have her way. She giggled against his lips. Her fingertips digging into his sides, she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking him in place as if he were her prey.

Clothes were quickly, albeit clumsily, desposed and little foreplay was invoked. The situation didn't call for romance or pleasantries. It demanded all-consuming distraction and mindless abandon. Anything to keep Alaric from thinking, from mourning, from whining.

He thrust into her wildly, savagely. All hatred and no tenderness. Just blame. Katherine reveled in the brutality of it all, encouraging him with breathy moans as she tightened her legs around his waist, forcing him to move deeper inside of her with each thrust, pushing him to move as fast as his human body would allow until he was panting with effort. Kat was relentless, making him keep up the pace expertly, refusing to let him slack.

Her nails tore into him with a fierceness that was not meant for him, but for a man who had once used his body as a tool for her own torture. The man who rightfully deserved her ferocity would never receive it. She could not have her justice directly, because he was stronger. So, she had to take what she could get. And take she did. In spades.

Her body went taut, strung tighter than a bow. Her fangs slid into the muscle of Alaric's shoulder to stifle a loud moan as she tightened around him. He fisted her hair, yanking her away from his shoulder with all of his strength, causing her teeth to snag on his flesh, making the wound more grotesque than it would have been had he just let her have her way. The violence caused Katherine to lose it. Her body arched obscenely, her head tossed back and forth, a slur of nonsensical words pouring from her swollen mouth as she came.

Alaric did his best to keep pace, but with her clenching sporadically around him it was nearly impossible not to jerk his hips unrhythmically with each tremor that shot through his body. He didn't manage to last much longer after she began to come undone beneath him.

Before he could collapse on top of her and get all sobby again, Katherine pushed him away none-too-gently. As if slapped, Alaric seemed to regain his sense, scrambling to get his clothes. On the other hand, Katherine, never one to rush, stood nonchalantly, wiping away the cum that had run down one of her thighs, unconcerned about whether it was her own or not.

Alaric went for the door, only to have Katherine suddenly in front of him, shaking her head. He gulped, trying not to look down past her eyes, because she was still naked and he was full to the brim with guilt, more wrecked than he had been when he arrived. He had just fucked someone else mere hours after losing his girlfriend. Someone who looked exactly like one of his students.... How was he supposed to look Elena in the eyes after this?

"I swear, if you start crying again, I'm going to slap you." Katherine warned.

He chose to ignore her, trying to push past her to leave, only to have her stop him again.

"Oh no, you're not going out there like this." She announced with authority, "The last thing I need is to be blamed for another death--rightfully or not. I'm calling Damon to come pick up your sorry ass."

Alaric pouted, but did nothing to stop her. He resigned to her wishes. Too drunk and too weak to put up a fight, he sat down on the couch while she dialed Damon's number, wondering briefly what he'd say when Damon found him here with Damon's ex in his stolen apartment which reeked with the pungent smell of sex even to his dulled sense....


End file.
